


Jumping to Conclusions

by Brink182



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Abuse, Adult Situations, Anal Sex, Angst and Drama like Whoa, Drug Abuse, Dubious Consent, F/M, Finger Fucking, Fisting, Hurt/Comfort (Comfort coming eventually), Kidnapping, Language, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome, Voyeurism, don't forget the archive warning above
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brink182/pseuds/Brink182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony returns to Stark Tower after a night out and the Avengers jump to the wrong conclusion. Misunderstandings abound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumping to Conclusions

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not ignore the archive warning and make sure to read all the tags attached to this fic! Lots of bad happening here.

** Jumping to Conclusions **

** By: Brink182 **

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Marvel. The original characters and plot are the property of Brink182. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

** Chapter One: The Morning After What? **

Sunlight streams through partially closed blinds. He groans. Covers his face with a pillow. Pauses. This isn't his pillow-the case is rough cotton ( _cheap_ cotton) and a yellowed off-white, not mulberry. He panicked briefly at not knowing where he was and then hazy, half-memories came rushing back fast enough to make him dizzy. He was in a hotel. A cheap one, judging by everything in the room. He remembers hands and kisses and groping and waking up alone in this room that he certainly would never pay money for. He feels a nasty hang-over coming on and nauseous and a bit like a used condom, which is nothing new, but he hadn't been black-out drunk in a long time and could only remember having at most, two drinks the night before. _Was he really that much of a lightweight now?_

Anyway, he needed to get up, showered and dressed. He had a company to run. He sat up and tried to ease himself off the bed, when he felt pain exploding from _everywhere_. _This is not good._ But his hung-over brain fails to make a connection between pain and how he could be black-out drunk after two drinks. Still, he makes it into the shower without collapsing, which he feels quite proud of, actually. That's when he noticed the bruises. That were shaped like hands and fingers. And the water going down the drain was a little pink. He felt sick, but told himself it was the hang-over, because he did _not_ want to think about the images his brain was putting together based on his own foggy recollections and the evidence he's been discovering this morning.

Finally, he stepped out of the shower and took a look at himself in the mirror. God, he looks like hell. Which is how he usually looks with a hang-over, so nothing strange there. Except for the bruises around his neck and the odd hickey on the side of his neck, he looks normal. But that's not _too_ unusual, either, so maybe no one will ask questions.

 

He dresses, finds the key to the room and steps out into the hall. He looks out of place in the shabby hall in an Ermenegildo Zegna suit. He took the elevator to the ground floor and casually tossed the room key onto the check-in desk on his way out the door without a look back. He doubts his car is in the parking lot, so he stands in front of the building and makes a call. Happy's there within ten minutes. He gets in the back. Happy glances at him in the rear view mirror and he just looks out the window. The drive back to the tower is silent.

 

Tony tried to sneak in quietly and go straight to his room unnoticed. While he was looking behind himself, he ran into an abstract sculpture in the lobby. Everyone came running to investigate.

"Walk much?"

Barton, of course.

“Actually, yes,” replied Tony.

They all stare at him and he's afraid that they _know._

“Back to your old ways, are you?” says Natasha.

And, he was wrong. They don't know. He's not sure whether to be relieved or hurt by this, so he settles for a little of both.

“Looks that way, doesn't it?”

And, he's not looking at Pepper, because he just couldn't handle what he knows she must be feeling, because they all think he cheated and maybe he did, but it wasn't his idea, but they don't even consider it.

He runs to the elevator and takes it all the way up to the penthouse and locks himself in his room. He tells JARVIS not to let anyone in without his verbal permission, before stripping and walking towards the bathroom. He needs to shower. A proper shower that's not a skeevy hotel bathroom. He scrubbed zealously at his skin.

 

After his shower, Tony went to bed. The sun had woken him up much too early. But sleep wouldn't come, so he just stared at the ceiling, wall and floor.

JARVIS announces that Pepper wants to enter. He permits it. She stands between the bed and where she keeps her clothes. Her stance is conflicted; uncertain.

“What happened last night?” she asked.

“Don't agree with the professional profiler?”

"Should I?"

Tony opened his mouth, closed it and turned his head to stare at the floor.

“Believe whatever lets you sleep at night, Pepper,” he said.

Pepper stood there, looking confused.

"What?" she asked.

As her brain rushed to keep up with the conversation, she looked like she had just eaten something really foul. Suddenly, she rallied her troops, revulsion gone for the moment, at least.

“I can't believe-”

Tony stared at her neutrally. Pepper frowned and squinted at him.

"Is that..."

“...a hickey? You were _necking_ last night?”

Tony brings the sheet up to his chin. She should notice this. Know something's not right.

“What's wrong, Tony? Tell me the truth.”

“Oh, so now you want the truth?”

“What's that supposed to mean? I've been trying to get a straight answer from you since you tried to sneak in!”

“After accusing me of cheating on you!”

Pepper sighed.

“I'm sorry, Tony. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions,” she said.

“I can't believe you don't trust me?”

Tony made it sound like a question.

“It's not that, Tony.”

“Then what is it, Pepper?”

“Something's wrong, Tony and you won't tell me exactly what it is!”

Pepper was frustrated, but tried to keep it under control. She couldn't help Tony if she went flying off the handle, but he was making it very difficult to keep from losing her temper.

“Why should I? You don't want to know the truth-none of you do. That much is obvious.”

Tony didn't sound angry anymore; just bitter and resigned.

“Whatever it is; you can tell me,” said Pepper, almost pleadingly, “I'll listen to you. I love you.”

“Nothing's wrong-everything's fine.”

“Could you at least look at me when you say it? Might make it more convincing,” she said.

Tony groaned.

“I am hung-over,” he said, “can we talk about this some other time?”

Pepper nodded.

“Okay, Tony. Anytime you want to talk; I'll listen. We will talk about this.”

“Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by pretty much every Avengers story I've read since I saw the movie and a little on a Star Trek fic I read. So if it seems a little familiar, that's why. I didn't intentionally steal anything from anybody. :)


End file.
